V Alexander - The Taster

This Colonel was not the one who had sent me here. The man in front of me was in his mid-forties, handsome, with dark hair, graying at the temples. His body was mature, his chest and arms covered with black hair. As I walked toward him, he opened his legs and the towel parted down the middle. I stopped.

“Come forward,” he said. From his tone, I knew he had been in the brothel many times. “I won’t hurt you.” He patted the bed. “Sit down beside me. Let’s get to know each other.”

My nerves quaked under my skin. I shook violently, but I took my place beside him.

“You’re new to this,” he said. “I’ve never seen you.” He turned toward me. “What’s your name?”

“Magda,” I replied. I wasn’t sure I should tell him.

“Magda—pretty. Like you.” He placed his hand on my leg and then rubbed his palm up and down over my robe. “You need to relax, enjoy yourself. I can make you happy. If you make me happy, life will be much easier.” He reached for me with his left hand, took my face gently in it and turned it toward him. “You’re shaking. I can command you to do what I say, but if you give in it’s so much nicer.” He pulled his towel open with his right hand. “Look,” he commanded, forcing my head downward.

“Stop, please,” I said. “Give me a few minutes.”

He relented and leaned back on the bed, his naked body displayed for me. “Would it be easier if I asked others to join us? Is that what you’d like? An orgy? Jenny can arrange it. In fact, she’d be happy to join in.” He laughed.

I felt myself crumbling. “No, it wouldn’t be easier. It would be easier for me to die.”

He chuckled. “Morals have no place in a brothel. Think of it as a moment’s pleasure. Over and then gone forever.” He took my hand and placed it on his stomach. “Tomorrow night you won’t even remember what I looked like. You won’t remember the feel of my…” He forced my hand lower, driving it into his pubic hair.

I ripped my hand away from his.

“I see this is going to be difficult. Perhaps force is the only way.” He shot up in bed and was about to call out for Jenny.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out.

He stared at me, his eyes wide with amazement. He slowly pulled the towel across his waist. He sat for a time, studying me, trying to tell whether I was lying. “I will talk to Jenny about this. She can’t get a man worked up and then throw a bucket of cold water on him. It’s not right.”

“I’m married to an SS officer,” I said.

The Colonel’s eyes snapped to attention and a wave of disbelief coursed through them. “If that’s true, what are you doing here?”

The truth seemed to be better than lying—at least a half-truth. “I don’t know. I wasn’t told what my crime was. I was sent away from the Wolf’s Lair, where I worked for the Führer.”

He inched away from me. “You worked for the Führer? What is your name?”

“Magda Weber. I’m married to Captain Karl Weber.”

He buried his face in his hands. “My God. I know Captain Weber. I knew him before he was asked to serve at the Berghof.” The Colonel screamed for Jenny.

She pulled the door open and jumped inside, her pistol pointed at me. “What’s she done? Should I kill her?” she shouted as she rushed toward us.

“Put that away before you shoot someone,” the Colonel said. “Get some clothes for this woman and take her to the guards’ dormitory. Keep her there overnight and make sure no harm comes to her. I’ll make a phone call in the morning.”

“I don’t understand,” Jenny said, and looked at me as if I had stabbed her in the back.

“That’s all,” the Colonel said. “Just do as I say. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He lay back on the bed. “Send in another woman—someone more suitable.”

Jenny pulled me off the bed and shoved me toward the door.

“Remember,” the Colonel commanded. “Be good to her.”

When we were outside, Jenny waved the pistol in my face and said, “I don’t know what you did, but if there was any trickery involved, I will personally kill you. I don’t like to be made the fool.”

I bowed my head, saying nothing.

“Whore,” Jenny said, and spat at my feet. She did not say another word as she led me to the guards’ dormitory.

Gerda woke me early the next morning. She told me I could shower at the dormitory and then get ready for the Colonel, who wanted to see me. She gave me a blue dress, clean underwear, stockings and shoes. She had even recovered my suitcase. A few things of no real importance were missing; it had been riffled through; the clothes left inside were wrinkled and messy. Gerda handed me a cup of coffee. The brew smelled delicious and I savored each sip. For the first time in days, I felt like a human being.

Gerda took me to an empty office and told me to wait. The windows looked out on the common grounds, which sparkled like green diamonds in the early morning sun. Past the common, the detention cabins spread out like dominoes to the far ridge of trees.

I saw the Colonel as he approached. He walked as stiffly upright as a stick with legs, his eyes never wavering from the view in front of him. I tried to judge his mood, which was much different from the night before. He seemed somber and subdued, as if whatever he had to tell me would be bad news.

I put my coffee down on the desk and stood up when he came into the room.

He brushed past me. “Sit down.”

I sat and waited for his decision on my fate.

The Colonel took a seat behind the desk, took off his cap and placed it in front of him. The death’s-head insignia, the skull and crossbones, caught my eye. He leaned back in his chair and said, “Tell me what you know about the plot to kill the Führer.”

I didn’t flinch from his intent gaze. “Nothing. I was at the Wolf’s Lair when the bomb exploded.”

“Captain Weber is missing. You have no idea where he is or if he was involved in this heinous plot?”

“No.”

He put a finger to his lips and sighed. “He will be found and executed if my hunch is correct. Others, in the Gestapo, believe he was involved. Too many are involved.”

For the first time, I looked away from him and out the window toward the common, where I saw the prisoners begin their lonely marches for the day. “If my husband was involved in this, he never shared such information with me. But it is ludicrous to believe he would play any part in this plot. He is loyal to the Reich.”

The Colonel pounded his fists on the desk so hard the pen and pencil on it flew into the air. “I don’t believe you! You’re lying!”

I turned to him. “If I’m lying why would I tell you the truth about who I am? Did the SS or the Gestapo tell you that I saved the Führer’s life? Or that it was the Führer who wanted Karl and me to be married?”

His face turned sour with a scowl, as if I had deflated his argument. “No, I heard it from another—your boss,” he stated calmly. He picked up his cap and stared at it. “When you pledge your life to the Führer you make certain sacrifices. I was told you have made those sacrifices. I believe you.”

The anxiety I carried drained from my body. “Thank you,” I said.

“I didn’t just talk to the Gestapo. I talked to the cook at the Wolf’s Lair as well. She vouched for you.” He pointed to his cap. “See the death’s-head? Every SS man is sworn to obey the Führer and the Reich, to give up his life if necessary. The cook told me that no one knew where you were. The Colonel who sent you away told no one he was transferring you to Bromberg-Ost. Your boss was furious that such a loyal and devoted worker would be taken away from her without so much as a word. She went to the Führer and asked that you be returned to the Wolf’s Lair. He remembered you saved his life.” He leaned forward and tapped the top of his cap. “For your sake, I hope you are loyal to the Reich. I hope your husband who has disappeared is as devoted to the Führer as you are.”